CondemnedA Poem by Comanche EstesOne of my favorites.
I’ve spent my life carving up my soul, to bring out its true potential. Yet, my inexperienced hands have made mess after mess that left me in worse conditions. There are no rules, there are no guidelines and there is nothing I want more than to undo the cuts and serrations. I find myself leaning on the line between artist and butcher. Each day, the alter me, the butcher, grins.
© 2016 Comanche EstesAuthor's Note
|
Stats |